


Bruised

by sawbones



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Dry Humping, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 15:30:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16789699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawbones/pseuds/sawbones
Summary: Elias talks to Dom the only way he knows how.





	Bruised

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kinktober.

“Is this what you want?” **  
**

Elias’ split lip stings as he bares his teeth, forces his knee harder into the bottom of Dominic’s back. He thrashes beneath him, not to escape, but to lift his hips where he’s trying to pull his own jeans off. There are several garbled expletives hissed into the pillow; _fuck you_ , mostly, and at least one _fuck me_.

They’re alone in the room they share but they’re not alone in the barracks. Anyone could hear them. Dominic doesn’t care, of course - doesn’t care about anything but what’s happening to him and only him. Elias curls a hand in his scruffy hair, pushes his face further into the pillow to keep him quiet. Dom had the height advantage but Elias had the weight, and the will.

He laughs when Elias grabs a handful of his ass and squeezes viciously; his laugh splinters into a choked-off moan when he lets go and slaps the firm flesh instead, hard enough to make his palm sting. He does it again, and again, until the moan is a breathless pant, lost somewhere in the crook of his arm where he’s hiding his face. It’s too dark to see how pink he’s made the skin, but he can feel the heat radiating off him as he ghosts his hand over the abused skin.

Dom’s squirming so much that his next slap misses, catches the top of his thigh instead. They both hiss, him in pain and Elias in displeasure. He pulls off him slightly, twisting the hair he’s still holding: stay still or tear it out at the roots, his choice. He leans more of his weight on Dom, half lying over him; he lets go of his hair to bite the soft cotton of his shirt, for no reason other than he wants to sink his teeth into something and he doesn’t want to leave marks, no matter how much Dom tries to provoke him.

“You’re not done,” Dom says.

He turns his head just enough that Elias can see the curve of his eyelashes, clumped with tears. He pushes his hips back as far as he can in his pinned position, demanding more.

“I’m not,” Elias says, teeth scraping the nape of his neck, pulling a shiver from him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He grinds down, let’s him feel every inch of him in a slow slide with just his cheap sweatpants between them. He doesn’t take them off, doesn’t want skin on skin yet because it’s not that kind of night, even if Dom moans like he’s being fucked anyway. He doesn’t know what else to give, and Dom will never ask for what he needs. It’s always a fight, and he thinks maybe that’s on purpose.

Violence is the only language he can talk to Dom in when he gets like this, all teeth and edges and desperation. Says it makes him focus, says it keeps him grounded. Elias hates it, he _hates_ it, and he thinks one day he might start believing it when he tells himself that.

Dom says his name as he arches his back, spreads his legs a little wider so he can fit between them so perfectly as he ruts. It’s a brittle sound, and Elias thinks that Dom might be making fun of him, but it doesn’t matter. Dom makes fun of everything. If he started taking things seriously - even this, even Elias - then he’d have to acknowledge what happened wasn’t funny, wasn’t a cosmic practical joke.

Elias won't be able to fix that. He could barely hold him together when he was bursting at the seams already, so he ignores it, and pushes his hand between Dom and the mattress to take a hold of his cock. The bedsheets are damp; he’s leaking so much already, just from being spanked. Elias wants to tease him for it but his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he knows there’s a growing wet spot on the front of his sweatpants where he’s grinding against him still.

“At least come on me,” Dom says, or tries to say through stutters and moans as Elias squeezes his cock a little on the hard-side for how he likes it but just how he needs it. He wants to tell him to fuck off but it’s already too late, and he’s cumming in his pants like a fucking freshman again, quiet, with teeth clenched and eyes screwed shut.

He lifts himself off Dom before he knows what’s happened, forces him to flip onto his back. He puts one hand over his mouth the cut off any toothy comments and grabs his cock with the other, stroking him hard and fast with definite purpose until Dom seizes, stripes his own stomach in white with a chest-deep moan that everyone on base can probably hear. 

Elias doesn’t move his hand until Dom licks his palm, making him flinch away. He doesn’t say anything but he pings the waistband of his ruined sweatpants with a smug grin, and Elias can’t help but roll his eyes. He lies down in the space beside him and peels them off; he offers them to Dom to clean up, who throws them on the floor when he's done.

He doesn’t like how quiet Dom gets afterwards. He watches him fish a pack of cigarettes out his jeans, abandoned at the foot on the bed. It’s better when he’s pithy and sharp, hard to handle but vibrant and vital. He knows this is his respite from whatever bar fight is going on behind his eyes on a normal day, but it still feels weird.

“You’re a freak, you know that,” Elias says, just to break the silence.

Dom laughs, and it’s a real one. He drops back against the pillows with a slow exhale of smoke, “You love it.”

He offers the cigarette to Elias without looking. He hesitates, but only for a second. He knows everything bad for you feels so good.

**Author's Note:**

> say hi at [glazkov-smile](https://glazkov-smile.tumblr.com/)


End file.
